The Cross and the Shamrock | Page 6

said, to go about forty
miles into the country; and he would, after his return, call to see how
she was, and to comply with her request about the children.
"I commend you now to the care of God and his angel. God bless you,"
said he, departing.
"Into thy hands I commend my spirit. O Lord, receive my soul. Jesus,
Jesus, Jesus, have mercy on me. O God of love, goodness, and mercy,
accept my imperfect thanksgiving; save my soul, redeemed by thy
precious blood, and make me worthy to see thy glory. I believe in thee,
O Lord, I hope in thee, and I love thee. O my God and my Lord, who
am I that thou shouldst visit me!"
With these and other fervent aspirations, this pure and exalted soul
prepared for the manifestation of the glory of her Lord, and sighed to
be dissolved, and to fly to the beatific vision that faith promised her,
and through the merits of Christ she expected to obtain. After this, the
symptoms of her disease became sensibly less dangerous than before
the visit of the priest; but this calm, this seeming relief, was only
temporary. Presently the impress of pale death was unmistakably

settled on her calm brow.
CHAPTER II.
GETTING THE MOTHER'S BLESSING.
When the priest departed from the precincts of "Oil Mill House," in
company with the impatient messenger that required his services in the
country, after a few words of encouragement and advice spoken to Paul,
Bridget, Patrick, and Eugene,--for so were widow O'Clery's children
named,--they returned to the bedside of their dying mother. Little
Bridget was the first to observe on the small bench by the bedside the
money left there by Father O'Shane.
"Paul," she whispered, "look here! This is money left, I suppose, by the
priest." Paul, who was acquainted with American coin, took up the
eight pieces, or quarters, in silver, and the bill, and examining them by
the candle, said, "O Bid, see how good the priest is! He has left us five
dollars, or one pound, without saying a word about it. Mother, how do
you feel? Look! the priest left us a deal of money here quietly."
"God reward him for it," answered she, with a hoarse and broken voice.
"Paul, darling, go on your knees, you and your sister and brothers, till I
give ye my blessing before I die. Quick, children, quick, while I have
strength."
"O mother! mother! sure you aren't going to leave us orphans? May be
you will get better now, after extreme unction."
"Kneel down here by my side, my children," said she, feeling that her
time was now short. "Paul, do you promise me you will be a good boy,
love God, and keep his commandments?"
"Yes, mother, with God's help. O woe!"
"Will you watch over your brothers, and sister Bridget, and go with
them to the priest, telling him not to forget that I gave ye all up to his
care, and the care of God and his blessed mother?"

"O, I will."
"Bridget, Patrick, and Eugene, will ye obey, and be said by Paul, who is
the oldest?"
"Yes, mother, please God," they answered, amidst sobbing and tears
that half choked them.
"God bless ye, and guard ye, and save ye from all dangers of soul and
body. I give ye up to God. I place ye under the holy care of the blessed
mother of God. I pray that ye may preserve pure the faith of Saint
Patrick. I bless ye. O, pray for me. Jesus, into thy
hands--Jesus--Mary--Jesus----." There was a sigh, and by a single effort
the soul extricated itself from its prison of clay to join the ranks of its
kindred spirits. The widow O'Clery is no more, and Paul and his
brethren are orphans indeed.
For a few minutes there was a deep silence in that chamber of death,
and Paul repeated the "De Profundis," in English, out of his Prayer
Book; but when the cold and ghastly form of death was perceived by
this poor company to be all that was left of their darling and
affectionate mother, loud and mournful were their lamentations. Then,
and not till then, did the forlorn state to which they were reduced reveal
itself even to their juvenile minds. There they were, helpless and
destitute, without father or mother, friend or relation; on every side
strangers, cold, hunger, and want. The mysterious hand of Providence
conducted them from comparative comfort, if not luxury, through
several stages of trial, danger, and trouble, till they were now entirely
stripped, like Job, of all but an existence to which death was preferable.
Many are the phases of misery and crosses with which the life of man
is surrounded in this vale of